The Storyteller. J. Michaels

cotton in the Carolina sun

      Side by side with his new family of slaves

      Spirit intact and returning to life

      They sang as they toiled

      And spoke of days gone by

      Telling stories of their homeland

      And dear ones left behind

      The days passed, the years quickly too

      John Henry grew older and slower

      No longer the machine his owners once prized

      Just an old man they had come to know

      The plantations thrived under John Henry’s toil

      Time permitted the landlords to know him well

      They could not help but admire the man

      Who, through the suffering and labor, stood so tall

      His spirit and goodness caused them to pause

      And reflect on this giant soul of a man

      Even shame sought refuge

      As they compared them to him

      Come one fine summer day

      When John Henry could arise no more

      The labor and sadness taking their toll

      From the man stolen so very long ago

      The master came to his bedside

      To say farewell to his aged property

      Humbled by one of greater character

      He now cried for both souls

      John Henry looked on his captor from death’s door

      Granting him the smile denied before

      For a moment before he returned home

      Brothers but for an instant

      Then John Henry was no more

      From the poetry collection Common Ground

      Shows to Go You

      I am reminded of a story, heard on television of all places.

      I have turned it to the poet’s quill and here is how it goes:

      A man waited on his rooftop

      As the water rose round his home

      He waited for God to rescue him

      A small boat came by

      And offered the man a ride

      Yet he said, No thank you

      I need no place to hide

      A larger boat came roaring up

      To offer the man some help

      Yet he said, No thank you

      I wait for my Savior to arrive

      Soon, a helicopter flew over

      And supplied the man a rope

      Yet he said, No thank you

      I haven’t yet given up hope

      The man drowned

      And left for the pearly gates

      And said, when he saw Jesus

      What the hell, you were much too late!

      Jesus said what’s the deal?

      I sent several to delay your fate

      It just shows to go you, fixed beliefs can ruin your day.

      From the poetry collection Simple Gold

      My Captain’s Door

      Waves are hitting hard

      And tossing our ship about

      The storm attacks us harshly

      The fear begins to mount

      The crew is less together now

      Allowing fear to push apart

      Maritime brothers we were

      Seeming less so now

      The time to pull together

      Most needed in moments of peril

      No other recourse given

      That will save our ship of fools

      And foolish we are and foolish we’ve been

      But now the time approaches

      To pull together mates

      And awaken as one again

      So I knock hard

      Against my captain’s door

      Yet no reply is forthcoming

      Silence answers, nothing more

      Crew and ship both dissolving

      Amid the tough and briny assault

      Hope crashing down with the fallen mast

      Only dread in common now

      I call for my captain

      Louder still I yell

      Save us from the fate upon us

      Let not our journey be to hell!

      My voice finally failing

      To bring the captain out

      My heart and ship are breaking

      Finally Heaven’s name I shout

      My boys pause in their terror

      Knowing a divine call had been made

      Leaving despair for a moment

      Hoping again the storm might fade

      A sailor believes in miracles

      At times his only way out

      Believing in man or captain

      Insufficient counter to the ocean’s rage

      But mighty sea or thundering skies

      Cower down in deference

      At the call to a higher power

      And make ready to obey it

      The maelstrom subsided

      The sea at peace again

      Men’s hearts calmer now

      Having witnessed the divine friend

      A Captain of larger stature

      Who would never fail us again

      From the poetry collection Common Ground

      The Great Belgium Belch Off

      The crowds gathered at sunrise

      To witness the annual event

      The gathering of all great gas bellies

      Belching here and there they went

      Warming up for the day’s competition

      Drinking soda, beer, and air

      Hoping to inflate sufficiently

      And retain the belches spared

      The crowds grew large and clamored for more

      Of the greatest belchers Belgium had ever known

      This tiny country with little claim to fame

      Playing host to intestinal foam

      The contest began at last

      Belchers